


All I Wanna Know Is...

by readbetweenthelions



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Fingering, Edgeplay, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Top!Kise, bottom!Midorima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readbetweenthelions/pseuds/readbetweenthelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The strippers that slink through the half-light of the club are entirely male, and Midorima is grateful that his friends knew he’d prefer this, at least. The strippers are of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and dressed in everything from the most revealing thongs to lacy lingerie to complete costumes that will undoubtedly be coming off soon. It’s not that they aren’t attractive, because, well, they are. It’s just that Midorima Shintarou does not belong in a strip club. He belongs in a library, or a biology lab somewhere, but where he does not belong is here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Wanna Know Is...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jessicamiriamdrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/gifts).



> special thanks to Bonnie RedheadScientist for doing so much work in the brainstorming process, and shoutout to Daiya_darko for thinking of Kise's stripper name. enjoy yourselves.

Midorima really does not want to be here.

It’s his birthday – well, two days after, but it’s the weekend now, so they’re celebrating - and maybe, just maybe, his friends could have planned something that Midorima would have actually enjoyed. Or maybe the problem was that they didn’t plan anything at all, and came up with this last minute. Either way, this strip club is not Midorima’s ideal location, and is in fact the furthest thing from it that he can imagine.

Takao reassures him with a couple slaps on the back. Midorima adjusts his glasses and shoots a glare at him. “This is supposed to be fun, Shin-chan,” he says. “Enjoy yourself.”

“This isn’t the sort of thing I enjoy,” Midorima spits back.

The strippers that slink through the half-light of the club are entirely male, and Midorima is grateful that his friends knew he’d prefer this, at least. The strippers are of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and dressed in everything from the most revealing thongs to lacy lingerie to complete costumes that will undoubtedly be coming off soon. It’s not that they aren’t attractive, because, well, they are. It’s just that Midorima Shintarou does not belong in a strip club. He belongs in a library, or a biology lab somewhere, but where he does not belong is _here_.

Takao sits him down at a table and promptly orders a round for them. Midorima’s other two friends are laughing between themselves, elbowing one another and nodding towards strippers according to their tastes. Midorima sinks into his chair and pulls his drink towards him self-consciously. The alcohol probably won’t help, but at least the glass gives him something to do with his hands.

Midorima scans the room again. The place isn’t trashy by a long shot, just not Midorima’s scene. A blonde in lacy stockings up to his thighs with matching panties catches his eye. He doesn’t even _like_ blondes, but something about this one is capturing his attention. Midorima sips his drink and keeps his gaze on the blonde.

“I see what you’re into,” Takao says in his ear, speaking loudly over the music. “You want me to get you a lap dance?”

“What?” Midorima says, his eyes jerking away from the blonde across the room. “No, please don’t, I don’t need – ”

“Too late,” Takao says. He’s already crossing the room, weaving his way through tables and people, making a line straight for the blonde. Midorima looks to his other friends for help, but they aren’t paying attention – one of them is tucking a bill into the G-string of a tall, muscled man and the other is grinning broadly over the rim of his glass. Midorima wishes he could drown in the drink he’s holding.

Takao soon returns with the blonde in tow. “His name is _Adonis_ ,” Takao says to Midorima. It can’t be a real name – of course it isn’t. Midorima wonders vaguely about what kind of actual given name a person like this could have. The blonde watches Midorima with a knowing smile and eyes lined with thin eyeliner. Takao turns to Adonis, presses some money into Midorima’s palm. “Adonis, this is Midorima. Have fun!”

Midorima looks desperately at Takao and starts to stand from his chair. Takao presses him back into it with a hand on Midorima’s shoulder. “Remember, no touching,” Takao says, leaning down to speak in Midorima’s ear. Midorima can hear the unspoken _As if we needed to tell you that_ as clear as a bell in his head, over the pounding of the music and the rushing of blood in his ears. Takao is smirking and now Midorima’s other friends are watching from across the table. Takao retreats and Midorima is left hopelessly alone with Adonis.

“Oh,” Adonis says in Midorima’s ear as he dances, all swaying hips and skin brushing skin, “Is this your first time at a strip club?”

“Uh,” Midorima says. It is, but should he tell him that? Midorima decides against saying more, and watches Adonis dance above him. Midorima bites the inside of his lip. As much as his friends think he’s not interested in things of a, well, _carnal_ nature, the fact is that he very much is. Maybe Midorima doesn’t belong in a strip club, but he very much wants to.

“’Midorima,’” Adonis says. Midorima keeps his hands dutifully at his sides, despite how desperately he wants to reach up to touch the muscles flexing under the skin of his torso. “That’s kind of an interesting name.”

“It’s a surname,” Midorima clarifies.

“Oh? Well, what’s your first name, then?”

“Shintarou.”

“Nice to meet you, Midorima Shintarou.”

 _Meet_ is an interesting word to use, Midorima thinks, when a person is watching you dance with their face inches from your genitals. Where should he be looking? He’s in a strip club, after all – he should take in the sights, as it were. But it feels sleazy and disrespectful. He trains his eyes on Adonis’ face.

Adonis looks down with a small grin. He loops his arms around the back of Midorima’s neck, hips still twitching this way and that. He’s close enough for Midorima to smell his scent, even over the scents of alcohol and people that cloud the club. Midorima swallows, saliva stinging as it slides down his dry throat. Without warning, Adonis’ smile widens and he lets out a short laugh. Midorima tries to ask what he’s laughing at, but the sound won’t come out. He must look like an idiot, his mouth open like this. Adonis pushes the hair away from Midorima’s face with his fingers entangled in it. Midorima can feel Adonis grind against him, and it’s all Midorima can do not to lift his hands and pull him closer.

“You’re cute,” Adonis says, a tinge of amusement in his voice. Midorima tries to speak again, but before he knows it, Adonis has turned around and is dancing with his back to Midorima. He really does have a spectacular ass, Midorima thinks, before tearing his eyes away. It feels so sleazy…

The song playing on the club’s speakers comes to an end, and so does Adonis’ dancing. After a wicked glance back at Midorima, he turns around. “I hope you had fun,” Adonis says, his face inches from Midorima’s.

As steadily as he can manage, Midorima hands the bills in his palm to Adonis. “Thanks,” he says. He looks pointedly at Adonis’s face. Adonis, caught off guard by Midorima handing him the bills instead of having them tucked in his garter, takes a moment to reach out for the money.

“Thank _you_ ,” Adonis says. His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, making the sharp points of his eyeliner disappear for a moment.

Someone slaps Midorima roughly on the back. Takao. Midorima had almost forgotten him, caught up as he was in Adonis’ performance. “Yeah, thanks,” Takao adds with a smirk. His eyes take in Adonis’ body, top to bottom. Takao isn’t a bad person, and in fact Midorima actually likes him, but something about the way Takao is looking at Adonis irks him. Adonis smiles a little and wanders off. As awkward as the lap dance had been, Midorima didn’t want him to leave yet.

Takao whistles lowly, mostly to Midorima. “Well, he certainly is sexy. He’s got a nice ass to go with his pretty face.”

“Don’t,” Midorima says, trying not to sound emotional. Why should he be mad? It’s not like… it’s not like he’s… “Don’t treat him like that.”

“Hmm?” Takao says, looking down at Midorima where he sits in his chair. “Don’t tell me you’re attached?”

“Shut up!” Midorima says. He sits back and folds his arms. “It’s not like that. Just treat him like a person. And get me another drink.” Takao huffs a breath of amusement through his nose and heads to the bar for another round for all of them.

Midorima is _not_ attached. He most certainly is not thinking he’ll ever have a chance with someone like that. No matter how much he wants to.

 

***  


Midorima can’t sleep. As much as he tosses and turns, slamming his pillow over his head to block out noise and light, then tossing the pillow and his blankets away only moments later, he can’t settle down. He’s thinking about Adonis.

God, Midorima wishes he knew his real name! Something about that stage name made him seem fake and unreal, although the smile in his eyes certainly hadn’t been. Or at least, Midorima hoped it hadn’t been. It’s stupid to think this way about a stripper. It’s his _job,_ Midorima tells himself over and over, it’s his _job_ to make you think he likes you, to smile and call you cute. It’s not real. It won’t be real.

But Midorima can’t help it. He can’t get the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles out of his head. That’s how Midorima knows he has it bad. He knows he is going to do something stupid soon.

“I knew it,” Midorima says to himself, alone in his car the next day, with a bouquet of flowers laid on the passenger seat. He _knew_ he was going to do something stupid. He leans forward and lays his head on the steering wheel gently and tries to talk himself out of what he’s intending to do.

The strip club looks a little less glamorous in the light of late-afternoon. It had been full dark the last time he’d been, only two days ago. Midorima pushes doubts out of his mind with a vigorous shake of his head, grabs the bouquet, and marches into the club.

There’s almost no one here, being fairly early in the evening and on a weekday, no less. There’s a man standing behind the bar near the front entrance.

“Can I help you?” the man asks.

“Oh, uh,” Midorima says. He clears his throat and tries to sound confident. “Is… Adonis here?”

The man’s eyes narrow a little. Midorima assumes this is the manager or the owner of the place; someone in charge, at the least. “Maybe,” the manager says defensively. “Why?”

“I just – ” Midorima says. He clenches the bouquet in his hand tightly by the stems. “I wanted to – uh. I wanted to give him…” Midorima trails off, certain he is being understood. He feels stupid. This probably looks stupid, childish even, and he wishes he hadn’t done this.

“I’ll give them to him,” the manager says, reaching out to take the flowers from Midorima.

“Hey, boss, are those for me?” a voice calls across the club. It’s Adonis, approaching in short jean cutoffs and a shirt much too tight for anyone, even him. He comes to a halt next to the manager and looks Midorima up and down. Midorima’s hand clenches around the bouquet of flowers. He feels ridiculous. How did he think he could come in here, holding this huge bundle of flowers, and not look stupid? “I know you,” Adonis says. “Midorima Shintarou, right?”

Midorima nods, dumbstruck. Adonis reaches out for the flowers and plucks them from Midorima’s hand.

“They’re nice,” he says, admiring them from several angles. He turns to his manager. “It’s not a problem, I’ll take care of it,” he says. His manager gives a slightly disapproving face, but leaves off watching the two of them.

“I – ” Midorima starts to say. He doesn’t really have much in the way of an excuse to give. What kind of person shows up to give a stripper they met once a bunch of flowers? Is Midorima that type of person? Well, he supposes he is now.

“Look, you’re sweet,” Adonis says. He’s looking at Midorima with his head cocked slightly. “It was nice of you to come back. And the flowers are beautiful.”

“Well, I – ” Midorima starts. Didn’t he have a plan? Something to say to not sound like an anxious middle-schooler? “I kind of – I couldn’t get you out of my head, and I figured – I thought I would – I’m sorry, this is awful. You must think I’m an idiot.”

Adonis laughs, a nice, clear sound. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think you’re sweet. Here, you know what? Can I see your phone?”

Midorima is caught so off-guard that he hands Adonis his cell phone without question. One-handed, his other hand being caught up with the flowers, Adonis taps around and

“There,” he says, handing the phone back to Midorima. “I get off work at nine,” he adds with a smile. He turns and walks away, leaving Midorima staring after him with his mouth agape. After he has disappeared from view, Midorima looks at the contact entry open on his phone. _Kise Ryouta_ is the name written in the box at the top.

 _Kise. Kise. Kise._ Midorima says the name over and over in his head, retraining himself to think of the pretty blond man with his real name instead of the cheesy stage name. _Kise. Ryouta. Ryouta. Kise…_ Without really thinking, he heads back to his car and drives home, barely thinking anything but Kise’s name over and over.

He keeps the contact entry open all evening, staring at it between cooking his dinner, and then eating. Kise said he got off work at nine today. Midorima figures he’ll text Kise at nine-thirty. No, nine-thirty-two, so it doesn’t look like he was waiting for an exact time. Wait, text? What is he thinking? He should call. Definitely better than texting. But what if he says something stupid? He can’t just proofread, like he could sending a text…

Midorima can hardly focus on the paperwork he has as he waits for nine, then nine-thirty to roll around. He taps his fingernails on the table and watches the clock on his phone screen switch to show 9:32. With a breath to steady himself, Midorima presses the small icon next to Kise’s number, and holds the phone to his ear as it rings.

“Hello?” Kise’s voice says eventually.

“Uh, Kise?” Midorima asks uncertainly. “It’s Midorima, Shintarou, we met at the club and I gave you flowers – ”

“Oh! You’re quick, aren’t you? Well, at least I’m not sitting around waiting for a call.”

Quick? Did Midorima call too soon? Was this a mistake? Should he have waited until tomorrow? “Um – ”

“So, what’s up?

“I – ” Midorima starts. _Well, it’s too late to go back now,_ he thinks, _what can I do? Just hang up? No…_ “I was wondering if you’d like to come to lunch with me.”

Kise’s laugh is muffled and a little scratchy over the phone, but Midorima still likes it. “Like a date? Sure. I’m free tomorrow at one.”

“Oh,” Midorima says. Did Kise actually accept? Is he sure he heard right? “Okay.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Uh.” Midorima can’t think of anything to say in response, so instead he proposes a restaurant for lunch and confirms the time.

“See you tomorrow,” Kise says after agreeing to the time and place.

“Yeah,” Midorima replies, “See you.”

After he hangs up the phone, Midorima flops onto his couch. If Takao heard about this, Midorima would never hear the end of it.

 

***

 

The place where they meet for lunch is a bright, open café with a lot of windows. Kise remarks that he’s never been here before, and looks around with curious eyes.

Midorima always gets the same thing when he comes here, and he orders it promptly when the waitress comes by their table. Kise, for his part, orders a salad. When their food comes, Midorima is surprised at the size of the salad – he’s never ordered it before, he wouldn’t have known. Kise only smiles and remarks that he hates it when salads are too small in portion size. He tucks into it eagerly and declares it to be very good.

“So, what do you do?” Kise’s voice breaks through a lull in conversation, which had previously been filled with eating.

“Me?” Midorima asks, swallowing noodles before speaking. “I’m a medical student. I’ll be starting my residency after this semester.”

“Med school, huh?” Kise says. He spears a few leaves of lettuce with his fork. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is,” Midorima admits. “But it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. So it’s not so bad.”

Kise chews his bite of salad thoughtfully. “Well, you’ll have a nice stable career,” Kise comments. “Although it scares me. All those sick people! How will you be able to stand it?”

“I think it will be okay,” Midorima says. “I plan on helping as many of them as possible.”

Kise shrugs good-naturedly. Midorima pushes his food around with his chopsticks for a moment. “Can I ask you something?” he says, looking up at Kise. “Why did you even give me your number in the first place? You must get people asking you out all the time, so… why me?”

Kise leans forward on the table and smiles a little. “You were nice, you know? Most guys are sleazy, but you didn’t touch. You looked at my face.”

Midorima remembers keeping his eyes locked on Kise’s face and his hands at his sides. It felt like the least he could do, at the time, to be respectful - which above all things, Midorima wanted to be to Kise. Maybe it was just that Midorima didn’t know how to go about things the non-respectful way, but here he was. It was sort of working, he hoped.

“Why do you do it?” Midorima asks. “If people are usually so bad, why do you do it?”

Kise shrugs. “It’s fun, it’s easy. I like it. It makes me feel good about myself,” he answers. “It’s not bad all the time, not even a quarter of the time.” He takes a sip of his water and stows an ice cube in his cheek to suck on. “And the money’s not bad either,” he adds with a grin.

“Oh,” Midorima comments. He watches Kise shift the ice cube to the other cheek with his tongue. “I guess that makes sense.”

There’s a muffled crunching as Kise bites down on the ice cube. “Yeah,” he says around the ice shards. It’s cute, Midorima thinks. He’s cute even when he’s just chewing ice.

The waiter deposits the check on the table and without hesitation Midorima drags it towards him. “Let me get it,” Midorima insists.

Unexpectedly, Kise frowns. “Don’t be silly, I’ll pay my share,” he argues, putting his fingers on the check to pull it back towards himself. Midorima lets him have it. Kise leaves a few bills with the check and Midorima leaves his card on top. When the waiter returns for the check, it’s Kise who directs him to use the cash for Kise’s meal and the card for Midorima’s share.

Afterwards, the two of them step outside. It’s late fall, fast approaching winter. Midorima wraps his scarf around his neck and pulls his jacket closed around him. Kise looks at him, his hair blown this way and that by the cold gusts of wind that blow past the two of them.

“We should do this again,” Kise says. “I’m free for dinner on Thursday.”

“Dinner Thursday,” Midorima confirms, nodding. “I’ll. I’ll be there.”

“There’s a restaurant called Silverfish over on 10th,” Kise suggests. “Meet me there at seven?”

“I’ll be there,” Midorima repeats.

“Okay,” Kise says, beaming. “Bye! I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah.”

Midorima watches Kise walk away for a while before he snaps out of it and heads back to his car. A second date. He has a second date with Kise, in three days. Thursday. He turns the key in the ignition, but can’t help but take a moment to sit with his head resting on the steering wheel, grinning into his lap.

 

***

 

Midorima dresses up for the date, in his best-fitted suit and tie. He makes sure his hair is combed down smooth and his glasses are without smudges. He tucks his wallet in his back pocket and leaves his apartment for his car.

The restaurant is nice, and Midorima is glad he wore the suit. He asks for a table for two and is seated almost immediately. The waitress places a menu in front of him and another at the empty seat across the table. Midorima thanks her, then occupies himself with examining the menu as he waits for Kise.

“You look nice,” says a voice near the table after several minutes. Midorima looks up at Kise, who stands there in a long, puffy coat. It _had_ been cold outside. He hangs the jacket on the back of the empty chair across from Midorima, revealing a nice gray suit.

“So do you,” Midorima answers as Kise sits in the chair.

Kise scans the menu quickly, but it appears he knows the restaurant to some extent. Kise chatters a little, pondering out loud what to choose. He eventually comes to a decision, and right in time – the waitress returns and asks for their orders. Kise places his with a dazzling smile at the waitress, and Midorima orders after, humbly keeping his eyes locked on the menu in front of him.

“Would you like something to drink with that?” The waitress asks the two of them. “Some wine?”

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Midorima asks Kise over the top of the drink menu.

“Sure,” Kise replies. “You choose, though. I’m no expert.”

Though Midorima can’t exactly say he’s an expert either, he thinks he can pick something nice. He picks a white that he thinks will go with both their dinners, even though it’s a little expensive. The waitress takes the order and disappears back to the kitchen.

The meal is delicious, and the wine better. Midorima finds he likes the slight flush that comes to Kise’s cheeks with the alcohol. Midorima has never really thought of himself as a funny person – he’s always been much too serious for that – but he finds himself saying things just to hear Kise’s laugh.

After their plates have been cleared and their glasses drained, the waitress brings the check. Kise makes as if to reach for it as the waitress leaves, but Midorima slides it towards himself too quickly to allow it.

“Please,” Midorima says, pink rising to his cheeks. “Let me pay, I’m the one that suggested the expensive wine and I just – I’ll pay, please let me.”

After a moment, Kise’s shoulders relax. “Okay,” he allows, “but just this once.”

Happy with his small victory, Midorima pulls the bill towards him and slips his card inside the leather-bound check holder. After a few minutes, the waitress takes it and then returns it.

“Ready?” Midorima asks, after replacing his card in his wallet. Kise nods and the two of them stand.

Once outside, the air seems rather chilly. Kise pulls his coat a little tighter around himself and breathes an exasperated sigh. “Waiting for the bus in this isn’t going to be fun.”

 _The bus?_ Midorima thinks. “I’ll – I’ll give you a ride home,” he offers.

Kise considers for a moment. “Okay,” he says finally.

The car ride back to Kise’s apartment is quiet, both of them speaking in mostly hushed voices between periods of watching the lights of the city zip by. Kise gives directions here and there until they pull up in front of an apartment building that isn’t too old, but isn’t really new either.

“Thanks for dinner,” Kise says as he climbs out of the car.

“Of course,” Midorima says. He wanted to kiss Kise, but he’s already out and too far away for that. Kise is smiling, as usual, before he turns to walk up to the apartment building.

Several feet from the car, Kise stops, then turns back around to face Midorima. “Aren’t you going to give me a kiss good night?” Kise asks, leaning down a little to look in the window of Midorima’s car. Midorima swallows against the sudden nervous lump in his throat, puts the car in park, and turns off the engine. Getting out of the car, Midorima meets Kise at the door to the apartment building. Standing under the dim porch light, Kise’s hair shines and there’s a glare on the lenses of Midorima’s glasses.

“Well,” Midorima says. He covers his mouth and clears his throat. “Good night.” Hesitantly he leans forward, and a little bit down, until his lips meet Kise’s.

Immediately, Kise raises a hand to the back of Midorima’s neck, pulling him closer. The other hand grabs Midorima’s wrist. Midorima takes it as a cue and puts both of his hands on Kise’s hips. Kise parts Midorima’s lips with his own and briefly their tongues entwine, enough to send a shiver down Midorima’s spine that he desperately tries to suppress.

It’s Kise who pulls back first. “Do you want to come up?” he asks, nodding his head toward his window on the third floor.

“Yes,” Midorima says emphatically, “Yes, I do.”

Kise laughs and pushes open the door of the apartment building. He leads Midorima up the flights of stairs and unlocks the door of number 311.

“I didn’t clean up,” Kise says. Midorima looks around the living room and kitchen of the small apartment. The place doesn’t look that dirty, even by Midorima’s high standards. A discarded pair of pants or a shirt here and there, an empty take-out container on the counter, and that’s mostly the worst of it. The apartment itself is small, but a good size for one person – and well-decorated. The far wall of the apartment is mostly window, letting in light from the streetlamps outside. Midorima wonders vaguely how much Kise pays for an apartment like this, in a nice part of town, but puts it out of his mind. Kise sets his keys on the counter and turns to Midorima. “I hope you don’t think I’m a mess.”

“I don’t think you’re a mess,” Midorima assures him. “If you could see my best friend’s apartment, you wouldn’t ever be embarrassed of a few clothes on the floor,” he adds, thinking of the constant state of disorder Takao’s place is in.

Kise laughs and draws closer to kiss Midorima again. Midorima kisses him, several short kisses here and there as the two of them remove their shoes and suit jackets. Midorima catches Kise by the hand and pulls him closer for a longer, deeper kiss.

“Bedroom,” Kise suggests. Midorima nods and follows him down the short hallway. Kise pushes the door shut behind them, and then backs Midorima up against it, fingers dexterously undoing Midorima’s belt and the button of Midorima’s pants. Midorima watches him, hands off, letting Kise kiss his neck above the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, this isn’t the club,” Kise jokes, slipping his hands into the waistband of Midorima’s underwear, “There’s not a no-touching rule here.” Midorima acknowledges this with a noise in his throat, and slips a hand between the two of them to grope at Kise’s cock through his pants. Kise greets his touch with a hum of pleasure. Midorima lets the pants Kise had undone slip down to his feet. Hands pushing up under Kise’s shirt and undershirt, Midorima’s fingertips press into the warm, smooth skin of Kise’s torso. With one hand he reaches up and begins to undo the buttons of Kise’s shirt, breath warm on the skin of Kise’s neck as he bends a little to the task. When the buttons are undone, Kise shrugs the shirt off and then strips off his undershirt. With a little smirk Kise brings his hands to loosen Midorima’s tie, and leans in to kiss him as he unbuttons Midorima’s shirt. Kise’s tongue slips against Midorima’s as his fingers play with the buttons, stroking here and there with small brushes of his fingertips as he does so. Eventually, Midorima helps Kise remove the tie and strip off his shirt, and then fumbles with Kise’s belt to unbuckle it before slipping off his pants altogether. The two of them press against each other, naked but for their underwear, their warm skin flush to one another’s as they kiss.

“I don’t always put out on the second date, you know,” Kise says. Midorima kisses his neck and collarbone and cups his hands around the curve of Kise’s ass. “I hope you don’t think I’m, you know, easy, or something.”

“I don’t care,” Midorima says, lips against Kise’s skin, “I just think you’re beautiful. I want you.”

“You say nice things sometimes, Midorimacchi,” Kise says. He pulls Midorima closer with a hand gripping his shoulder.

Midorima speaks between small kisses. “Did you just call me a nickname?”

“Yeah.”

“…I like it.” With gentle teeth he nips at the skin of Kise’s neck and collarbone. Enjoying the sensation, Kise digs his fingers into Midorima’s skin where his hands lay. Midorima pushes his hands under Kise’s underwear and slips them off over Kise’s half-hard cock. Midorima sits him down at the edge of the bed and kneels in front of him.

Midorima rubs a hand against his cock through his underwear as he works Kise’s with his other hand. Kise sighs, a sweet note escaping his mouth. Soon enough, Kise is fully hard, and Midorima takes a moment to put his glasses somewhere safe before bending his neck to lick lightly at the tip of Kise’s cock. Involuntarily, Kise grips at the hair at the back of Midorima’s head and pushes him a little closer for more and stronger contact. Midorima twines his tongue around the top part of Kise’s dick, looking up at Kise as he does so.

“Haah…” Kise exclaims, enjoying the pleasant spread of the sensation through his body. Midorima wouldn’t call himself an expert at this sort of thing, but he’s no virgin. He’s been with guys before; more than one, and often more than once. Midorima runs his tongue from the base of Kise’s cock up to play at the ridge where the head of his cock begins.

After a short while, Kise lifts Midorima’s mouth away from his cock. “Come here,” Kise says, a gentle hand on Midorima’s chin to coax him upwards. Midorima and Kise stand, kissing at first, then Kise drops his head to softly kiss and lick and bite at Midorima’s skin. Kise slowly slides his hands down to Midorima’s groin.

“Fuck me,” Midorima breathes. His fingers press into the skin of Kise’s neck, holding him close to encourage the soft biting of Kise’s teeth at his skin.

“Hmm,” Kise says, leaning back and scanning Midorima from head to toe. “I wouldn’t have figured you as a bottom.”

“I’m not,” Midorima says. “Not always. I just… I want you to fuck me.”

“I can do that,” Kise says with a grin, moving closer to Midorima and grabbing Midorima’s cock through his underwear. They kiss again, all bare skin on skin. Kise slides Midorima’s underwear down over his ass, letting them fall to the floor. He grips Midorima’s hard cock properly, stroking his shaft.

Midorima maneuvers to sit on Kise’s bed, letting Kise stand above him while they kiss. Kise steadies himself with a knee on the bed, pressing against Midorima’s groin. Midorima moans softly and grinds his hips against Kise. Kise reaches over Midorima to grab a bottle of lube from the top drawer of his dresser. Kise gently pushes Midorima backwards to lay flat on his back on the bed, and kneels between Midorima’s spread legs.

“What do you like, Midorimacchi?” Kise asks, using the nickname again. “What are you into?”

“Just _fuck_ me,” Midorima says, voice edged with impatience.

Kise shrugs. “Need to get you opened up, first,” he says. He takes a moment to lubricate his fingers before pressing them to Midorima’s hole. He slips just one finger inside him at first, then slowly adds more. Midorima mutters little words of encouragement as Kise fingers him, enjoying the sensation.

“Are you ready?” Kise asks after a while, pressing kisses to the skin of Midorima’s stomach.

Midorima nods. “From behind,” he requests. Kise smiles. He draws his fingers out of Midorima and stands from the bed. Midorima clambers onto his hands and knees. Kise retrieves a condom from the top drawer of his dresser and rolls it onto his erect cock.

Kise steadies himself with a hand at the base of his dick and pushes into Midorima. Midorima lets out a long, strained sigh.

“You okay, Midorimacchi?” Kise asks. They had done plenty of prep, but Kise’s erection was more than a few fingers.

“Big,” Midorima breathes. “It feels good…” Kise presses kisses to Midorima’s back and pushes in again and again.

Midorima’s breath grows shorter, and now and then he cries out, a long, low moan or a murmur of encouragement. Kise is sure Midorima is approaching orgasm. “Do you want to come, Midorimacchi?” Kise asks. “I can make you come…”

“Not yet,” Midorima gasps. Kise slows his thrusting to a halt. Midorima is panting hard, but his breathing becomes more even as he comes down from the threshold of orgasm.

“Ah,” Kise says, grinning. “So _that’s_ what you’re into.”

Midorima lets his head hang. Kise reaches a hand up to stroke the tensed-up muscles of his shoulders. “Again,” Midorima says after a while, having let himself come down from the edge of orgasm.

“We can do this,” Kise says, fucking Midorima slowly at first, “But you need to tell me when you’re about to come.”

Midorima nods. It only takes a short while to get Midorima worked up again, until he’s breathing quickly. “I’m gonna – ” he pants, “I’m…” Kise backs off, letting him come down again.

By the time Kise denies him orgasm for the third time, there is a sheen of sweat covering Midorima’s body. His arms shake underneath him. “Do you want more, Midorimacchi?” Kise asks, leaning over Midorima’s body to speak softly in his ear. Midorima nods. “What was that, Midorimacchi?”

“Yes,” Midorima breathes. “Please, more.”

Kise obliges. Midorima is so responsive under his touch, each caress from Kise an excuse for Midorima to press his body closer. Kise pushes deeper into Midorima. He must have hit a good spot, because Midorima moans and brings his hand to grip his erection.

“No, let me take care of that,” Kise says. He reaches around, moving Midorima’s hand and gripping Midorima’s cock himself. Midorima sucks air through his teeth at the touch, and bucks his hips backwards to take more of Kise’s length. Kise strokes Midorima’s cock, paying special attention to letting his fingers play at the head. Midorima is wet with precum, and more than a usual amount, since Kise has brought him to the edge so many times already. Kise remarks on this and Midorima glances back at him with heavy-lidded eyes and lips parted as he pants with exertion and pleasure.

Midorima is moaning a little louder by the time he announces that he is near orgasm again. Kise won’t let him have it just yet – he gently squeezes the base of Midorima’s cock and slows his thrusts, forcing his orgasm to fall back yet again.

Midorima looks back at Kise with a look of pained ecstasy on his face. It’s incredibly attractive – Kise leans forward and kisses him, full and deep, free hand keeping Midorima’s face turned towards him and the other working around Midorima’s cock. Midorima’s orgasm is building again already, and he turns away from Kise to let his body settle into it.

Midorima’s shoulders square and his back arches. “Please, please, let me come,” Midorima begs. His hair is damp with sweat, his body shaking, and voice is frantic.

“Not yet,” Kise replies. Again he gently squeezes the base of Midorima’s cock and pauses his thrusts, forcing Midorima’s orgasm to wane yet again.

Kise feels a specific fondness growing in him as he works Midorima back up to the edge. Midorima takes all of this so bravely. And so quietly, too – Kise is certain he would have been begging, screaming, long before Midorima had started to beg.

Midorima’s relative quiet is broken suddenly. “Please! Please, Ryouta, fuck me, let me come, please,” Midorima says, words tumbling out of his mouth desperately, “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, let me, let me – uhn…”

Midorima finally comes, cock twitching under Kise’s touch. Kise’s stroke turns long and slow, drawing every last bit of Midorima’s orgasm out of him. Midorima’s tensed-up muscles finally relax, and he lets his front half sag to the bed beneath him. Kise continues fucking him, close to orgasm himself.

Midorima’s hands are tangled in the sheets and with every thrust he makes a small, pleased noise. He lifts his head to look back at Kise with heavy-lidded eyes and his face flushed red. “Thank you,” Midorima says, still breathless.

This is enough to put Kise over the edge, and he comes, moaning and clinging to Midorima’s hips. Eventually the only sound in the room is the two of them each trying to catch their breath.

Kise holds onto the condom as he pulls out, and expertly ties a knot in it. Midorima slumps to lay flat on the bed as Kise stands to throw the used condom in the garbage can by Midorima’s bed. He watches Midorima wipe sweat from his brow, then grabs the bottle of lube from where he had left it on the floor.

“Lay on your back,” Kise commands, turning around to face Midorima where he lays face-down on the bed. Hardly thinking, Midorima picks himself up and turns over, then lets his exhausted muscles go slack. Kise climbs back onto the bed and positions himself between Midorima’s spread legs.

Kise applies lube to his fingers and gently pushes them into Midorima’s hole. Midorima groans and writhes, pressing himself closer to the sensation. Kise lets out a small huff of laughter and crooks his fingers slightly inside Midorima to rub at Midorima’s prostate. Kise wraps long fingers around Midorima’s cock and strokes the length of his shaft.

Midorima sits up part way and looks down at Kise. “I don’t think I can – ” he starts.

Kise hushes him. “I’m going to make you come again,” he says. Midorima’s cock is already half-hard, and Kise teases him with a tongue at the tip. “Is that alright?”

Midorima nods dumbly. Kise works his fingers inside of Midorima, and his hand around Midorima’s cock. Midorima hisses through his teeth – Kise’s touch almost hurts, Midorima’s dick still oversensitive in the aftermath of his orgasm. Midorima moans as Kise’s fingers press at his prostate.

Once Kise has gotten Midorima hard again, he bends to wrap his lips around Midorima’s cock. He lets his tongue play around the tip at first, then taking as much of Midorima’s length in his mouth as he can. Kise fingers him at the same time, making sure to hit that deep spot that makes Midorima’s hips twitch up and his legs shake. With his free hand, Kise presses at a sensitive spot just below the head of Midorima’s cock.

“Ryouta!” Midorima says, voice loud and frantic. “It hurts, uhn, it feels so good…”

“Do you like it?” Kise says, mouth centimeters from the head of Midorima’s dick.

“Don’t stop,” Midorima begs. “Don’t stop.”

Kise obliges. He sucks Midorima’s cock, working a hand around the shaft as he does so. Midorima cries out, tensing muscles standing out everywhere on his body.

Midorima struggles a little bit, wanting relief from the slight pain of overstimulation, but needing to press closer to feel it more. Eventually he lies nearly still, except for the shaking of his legs and the intermittent twitching of his hips. His breath hitches over and over, between gasps and moans and pleading words. “I’m coming,” he gasps finally. “I’m coming, I’m – I’m…” He releases a long, low groan as his second orgasm in such a short time washes over him. Kise keeps touching him as cum spills onto Midorima’s stomach. Midorima’s breaths are quick and shallow. Kise finally releases his grip on Midorima’s cock and draws his fingers out of Midorima’s hole. Midorima makes small, pained noises at the loss of Kise’s touch, but he’s coming out of the mist of his orgasm and his eyes flicker open. He’s just in time to watch Kise bend and lick cum from where it has pooled on his torso. He raises his head to look down at Kise’s grinning face, then lets himself flop back onto the bed.

Kise stands. “We should shower,” he suggests. Midorima opens his eyes to look at Kise, but doesn’t move any of his exhausted muscles. “I’ll put the sheets in the wash and put some new ones on and meet you there.”

Midorima looks down at himself, covered with the remnants of two orgasms’ worth of cum, and considers the stickiness of drying sweat on his skin. “Okay,” he says, and picks himself up off the bed.

After their shower, Midorima lays back against Kise’s pillow. Kise lays draped over him, an arm around his waist and a leg hooked around one of Midorima’s and his face resting on Midorima’s chest.

“That was the best sex I’ve had in my entire life,” Midorima admits.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Kise says. “Honestly, I’m a stripper, and I don’t think I’ve seen anything as sexy as you were when you were coming undone…” Kise lets his fingers trail from Midorima’s collarbone down until he’s gripping at the soft skin of Midorima’s thigh. “You _thanked_ me. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Well,” Midorima says, “thanks again.” He turns Kise’s face up and kisses him on the mouth. After Kise pulls away and lounges with his face pressed to Midorima’s chest, Midorima laughs a little. For some reason he thinks of Takao, who will never believe him about all of this.

“Stop laughing,” Kise says, a little drowsiness having crept into his voice. “You’re moving too much.”

“Sorry,” Midorima says. He runs his fingers through Kise’s hair, still a little damp from their shower.

The room falls silent but for their breathing. After a while, Kise speaks up, his voice thick, half-asleep. “I like you,” he says. “Kind of a lot.”

“I like you kind of a lot, too,” Midorima says. It’s no ‘I love you,’ – of course it’s not, not yet. But it feels like the start of something good.


End file.
